


reflected in her soul

by coffeebuddha



Category: Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Female Friendship, Found Family, I REGRET NOTHING, Magic still exists, Women Being Awesome, pride and prejudice au, this is so self indulgent y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/pseuds/coffeebuddha
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of options, must often be persuaded to be a wife.“Well, this is easily the dumbest idea you’ve had since at least the Griffin Incident,” Merlin says flatly. The entrance hall of Netherfield Park isn’t actually terrible and someone has clearly made a concentrated effort to spruce up prior to their arrival at the manor, but there’s an unsettling smell that’s making Merlin’s nose itch.Merlin has the sinking suspicion that the smell might in fact be ‘fresh air’.or the Pride and Prejudice AU that like one person asked for
Relationships: Arthur/Red Riding Hood, Merlin/Snow White (Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/gifts).



**The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman in seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.**

**\- Audrey Hepburn**

* * *

_Once upon a time, in a village by the sea, lived a man and a woman who loved each other dearly. The woman was poor, but lovely, with skin like snow and ruby lips, and when they married, the village gossips whispered at the mismatch, for the man was considered quite plain, but was the heir to his family’s name and money. But when the topic of her husband was raised, the woman nearly glowed with happiness, and spoke only of his kind and gentle nature, and on the topic of his wife, the man’s praise was most effusive for the sweetness of her smile and the sharpness of her wit. And, while still seen as something of an odd pair, over time even the most doubting of disbelievers couldn’t deny the truth of their devotion._

_The only blight on their otherwise happy life together was their unfulfilled wish for a child._

_“There are options,” said the woman’s fairy godmother. “I know of a flower that holds a child in its petals or there is a special cabbage if you’d prefer.”_

_No, the woman decided, she would not rely on magic. “I won’t risk a curse.”_

_“But you’ll risk yourself,” her godmother asked skeptically. Because beautiful as the woman was, she was also very frail, and the fairy found it hard to comprehend how someone could pass up such a useful tool as magic._

_Still, the woman was adamant, and after some time and several complications, she gave birth to a little girl._

_“No one will ever claim she’s not her father’s daughter,” the woman said, tracing a finger down her daughter’s plump cheek while smiling fondly at her husband, passed out in the chair beside the bed. “She already has his nose.”_

_“She’ll be beautiful,” her fairy godmother said quietly, a gentle hand spanning across the baby’s rib cage, her index finger tapping a slow beat above her heart._

_“No magic,” the woman reminded. “Not even as a gift.”_

_“Not a gift, but merely an observation,” the fairy agreed, for fairy eyes are different from human ones and they sometimes See things that human eyes might miss. “Have you decided on a name?”_

_“Yes,” the woman said. Her lips curled in a tired, but sincere smile, and as a flurry swirled outside her bedroom window, she named the child, “Snow.”_

* * *

As usual, the children’s entrance is heralded by the sound of their little feet thundering across the wooden floorboards and the discordant harmony of their excited voices.

“Brace yourself,” Snow says fondly, stepping away from her father’s desk, where she’d been revising the family’s financial ledger. “This sounds like a big one.”

“Hmm.” Gwen doesn’t look up from her mending. The needle shivers from the faint trembling of her thin hands, but her stitches are a neat, tidy line pulling together the latest rip in her favorite red cape. “They’re always excited to share things with you.”

“With us,” Snow corrects as the drawing room door slams open and the children trip over each other in their haste to get inside.

“Snow!” Teddy yells, his voice only slightly muffled by his spot on the bottom of the pile. “Snow, you’ll never believe what’s happened!”

Gwen glances up just long enough to arch an ‘I told you so’ eyebrow at Snow, who rolls her eyes at her and goes to help. “Snow,” Steiff insists as she’s pulled upwards. “It’s Netherfield Park!”

“It’s been let,” Bab says with delight as she bobs to her feet.

“Has it?” Snow asks. She’s truthfully more concerned with trying to discreetly check the trio for any injuries–one of these days one of them is going to lose their head, she’s sure of it–but she remembers how much she’d wanted to be seriously listened to during her own childhood, so she smiles and smooths Teddy’s bright blond hair back into place and says, “How exciting.”

“That’s not the exciting part!” Teddy ducks out from under her hand and strikes a pose that she recognizes from when they play Pirates in the garden with scavenged sticks. “The exciting part is that it’s been let to the Fearless Seven!”

“There goes the village,” Gwen says mildly and cuts her thread with a sharp snap of her teeth.

“They’re real, live heroes,” Bab says, grabbing Snow’s hand and tugging just as Steiff grabs her other hand and tells her, “They’re so handsome, like princes out of a storybook!”

Snow glances between the children and Gwen, and her smile is slightly less certain when she tells them all, “I’m sure they’ll make for lovely neighbors.”

“I’ve heard tell they hunted a werewolf up north last year,” Gwen says. She wraps a loose thread around her index finger a few times, pulls it tight, and looks at it for a moment, before unwinding it again. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about them.”

“People say plenty of things that aren’t true,” Snow tells her, but she worries her bottom lip between her teeth and scoops Bab up to sit her on her hip.

Teddy flings himself across the room to fall across Gwen’s lap, gap toothed smile beaming up at her sincerely. “No one would hurt you, Gwen.”

“We wouldn’t let them,” Steiff says. She climbs up on the window seat beside Gwen and tucks her legs up under the excess folds of the red cape. “Besides, they’re heroes, Gwen. Heroes don’t hurt good people.”

“And you’re a good people,” Bab chimes in. Snow settles the two of them in the chair nearest the window seat. Bab immediately leans over the armrest and makes grabby hands at Gwen until she acquiesce and reaches back to link their fingers together. 

“So that’s settled, then,” Snow says. “If they’re rude or stabby or anything like it, we’ll simply tell them to leave.”

“Easy as that,” Gwen asks. She pulls a skeptical look at Snow, but there’s a laugh sneaking its way into her voice. Teddy wriggles his way up to wrap his arms around Gwen’s waist and snuggles in close. “You’re just going to kick the Fearless Seven out of Netherfield.”

“Out of the entire town,” corrects Snow. “I’ll carry them to the border myself.”

“She could,” Teddy says in what he probably thinks is a conspiratorial whisper. “She carried me home all the way from the shore once.”

“Very impressive,” Gwen tells him in perfect seriousness.

“You’re family,” Snow tells them both, then looks at Steiff and Bab in turn. “ _Nothing_ is more important than family.”

* * *

“Well, this is easily the dumbest idea you’ve had since at least the Griffin Incident,” Merlin says flatly. The entrance hall of Netherfield Park isn’t actually terrible and someone has clearly made a concentrated effort to spruce up prior to their arrival at the manor, but there’s an unsettling smell that’s making Merlin’s nose itch.

“I’ve never had a dumb idea in my life,” Arthur says from behind the towering stack of baggage he’s lugging inside to the staff’s visible distress.

Merlin has the sinking suspicion that the smell might in fact be ‘fresh air’.

“The only way that is true,” Hans comments, “is if Arthur's never had a thought at all.” He pauses, before saying, “Which, honestly…”

“Hey,” Arthur says, and trips Hans as he walks past, nearly losing his own balance in the process and only barely managing not to dump his entire load onto Jack, who’s been ignoring them all in favor of adjusting a singular strand of hair. He’s been adjusting the same single strand for at least three minutes and Merlin is almost impressed by his dedication, whether it’s in fact to his appearance or mentally blocking them out.

Hans rolls over and locks his hands behind his head. “This feels surprisingly good on my back after that carriage ride,” he muses, and settles in.

Merlin ignores that in favor of asking, “How did you even find this pile?” 

Arthur waves a dismissive hand, immediately losing his grip with his opposite hand and dropping all of his assorted belongings. He frowns down at them for a moment in affable confusion, before stepping over and out of the way of the footmen, who swoop down on the luggage in near desperation. He leaves them to it and shrugs at Merlin. “My aunt is acquainted with the owners.”

“Does your aunt secretly hate you?” Merlin ignores the darting glance that gets him from a footman and the even more damning lack of a look from the butler.

“We could do with the quiet,” Hans says from the floor. His eyes are closed and his voice has gained the soft, loose quality that means he’s only a few more breaths away from sleep. “And there’s room in the cottage out back for Pino, Noki, and Kio to work on their experiments without smoking up the entire house.”

“This is not ‘quiet’,” Merlin protests. “This is the _countryside_.”

“It’s nice,” Arthur says.

“It’s green!” Merlin counters. He steps out of the way of the triplets as they scurry past with their own oversized chest. It’s ticking somewhat ominously, and Merlin decides the better part of sleeping through the night and not waking with gray hair is ignoring whatever they’ll be doing in the cottage. “Entirely too much green!”

“You could do with the break,” Arthur says, a little too nonchalant in his tone. “Take some time, unwind.”

“Doing what?” Merlin flings his arms out wide, encompassing not merely the room or the estate, but the entire town.

“You could read,” Arthur suggests. He’s taken a sprawling seat on the stairs, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, and he leans back on his elbows and studies the ceiling when he adds, “We know how you like your books.”

“Do they even know what books are all the way out here,” Merlin grouses, but he crosses to Arthur’s side and drops down beside him, the unbreakable tether of childhood friendship reeling him reluctantly in.

Jack, evidently settled on the exact millimetre placement of his coif, smiles winningly at the housekeeper as she leaves with a frankly judgy swish of skirts, then turns to Merlin as the rest of the household staff empties out behind her. “You sound like a snob.”

“And that’s coming from him,” Hans says, using his heels to scoot himself across the floor until his shoulder bumps against Merlin’s toes. Jack watches him with a horror Hans seems to recognize with his eyes still shut if his pleased smirk is anything to go by. 

“You could do with the break,” Arthur says again, his voice lower this time, shoulder pressed up tight against Merlin’s. “That last fight was…”

He breaks off and glances at Jack for support, who sighs heavily, but sounds sincere when he says, “It was too close. We should all take this opportunity and rest.”

Arthur nods earnestly, looking between the two, and Merlin sags into his side. They wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for him, he knows that in his bones, but he takes the balm to his ego that pretending otherwise provides, and says, “Alright.”

“Good lad,” Arthur says, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and giving him a brief, friendly bone-rattling shake.

Jack straightens his sleeves and says with a sniff, “Although, now that the question has been raised, I do wonder what there is to do around here.” 

“Apparently there’s a ball at the assembly hall tomorrow night,” Arthur says, all puppy dog brightness once again. His smile is like sunshine, warm and shining and nearly blinding to look at, and Merlin scrunches up his nose in the face of it.

“Oh,” Merlin says blandly. “Doesn’t that sound delightful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, I'm back! :D Didn't expect this to be the fandom that dragged me back into writing after a multi-year hiatus, but life is already so weird this year that nothing's actually surprising anymore.
> 
> Teddy is short for teddy bear, Steiff is named for the Steiff teddy bear company, and Bab is an abbreviation of Build-A-Bear.
> 
> Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Seven are here,” Pearl Finn says, appearing out of nowhere at Snow’s elbow. Snow startles violently, near tripping over her own feet and squeezing so hard on Gwen’s hand that she hisses and slaps Snow’s wrist to get her to stop.
> 
> “Sorry,” Snow tells her, then turns to Pearl and asks, “Sorry?”
> 
> “The Seven,” Pearl says. She loosely links her elbow with Snow’s and drags the chain of them through the crowd toward the punch table. “Everyone is here to try to get a glimpse of them.”

“We don’t have to go,” Snow says.

Gwen, sat at the vanity with her hands full of her hair, meets Snow’s eyes in the mirror and cocks an eyebrow. “So you’ve mentioned. Several times now, in fact.”

Snow huffs and bats Gwen’s hands out of the way. She runs her fingers through Gwen’s hair a few times to get rid of the worst of the snarls, then takes the brush Gwen hands back to her and starts to carefully work out the rest of the tangles. 

“I’m just saying,” says Snow. “It’s only a few days since the full moon. People will understand if we don’t make an appearance.”

“They may understand, but there will still be talk,” Gwen points out.

“So let them talk.” Snow makes quick work of plaiting Gwen’s hair and holds out a hand to accept the hairpins Gwen is already in the process of passing over her shoulder to her. “What do we care about their gossip?”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Gwen says with a sigh. “You have your place and no one’s opinion can shake it. It’s different for me.”

Snow would throw up her hands if it wouldn’t undo all of her hard work. “But it shouldn’t be! You’re a White in all but name already!”

“But I’m not, in actual fact, a White. And maybe it shouldn’t, but not even all of your conviction on this matter can actually change how things are,” Gwen says.

It’s one of their oldest arguments, worn smooth and soft at the edges from repeated use, and they both know their parts by heart, but Gwen scrunches her mouth to one side before going off script and saying, “I want to go. You can stay home tonight with the children if you’d prefer, but I’m going.”

Snow pauses in sliding the last hairpin into place, then takes a deep breath and secures it. “Alright, we’ll go. But,” she says sternly to Gwen’s triumphant smile, “If you start to feel at all unwell or uneasy, tell me?”

“I promise,” Gwen agrees.

She leans back against Snow, and Snow bends down to wrap her arms around Gwen’s shoulders and rest her cheek on top of Gwen’s head.

“I just worry,” Snow says softly.

“I know and I love you for it.” Gwen reaches up and squeezes Snow’s forearms. “But you can’t lock me up to keep me safe. This is a very lovely house, but a lovely cage is still a cage.”

“You _are_ safe here with us, though,” Snow promises. She sways a little, back and forth, and Gwen moves easily with her. “And you’re free to do anything that makes you happy. If anyone disagrees, send them to me and I’ll set them straight.”

“In that case,” Gwen says, turning so that her forehead bumps up against Snow’s chin. “I’d be very happy if you let me borrow your pearls for tonight.”

Snow drops her head to muffle her laugh against Gwen’s shoulder and gives her a little shake. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You don’t have to,” Gwen starts, but Snow cuts her off.

“No, no, it’s fine. Go ahead and take them; you know I prefer fresh flowers anyway, and if I hurry I can ask Larsen to cut some from the garden for me.” Snow pecks her on the cheek and pulls away to start getting ready.

* * *

“I’m not going,” Merlin announces. “I can’t, I have nothing to wear.”

“Yes you do,” Jack says from his room across the hall. “I repacked your trunks before we left London.”

Merlin feels the warm glow of his victory leech away and flings open his wardrobe door. Instead of his usual sensible coats and breeches, there’s a veritable explosion of expensive fabrics, all in the most fashionable cuts and colors.

“Why,” he asks, bewildered and bleak.

“Because,” Jack says, poking his head through Merlin’s door to give him a displeased once over. “I have standards for the company I keep, and I clearly can’t expect you to live up to them without intervention.”

“You’re going,” Arthur says as he passes down the hallway on his way to his room.

“I hate this,” Merlin tells him and Jack.

Jack rolls his eyes so hard that his entire head lolls with it.

“We know,” Arthur assures him. 

“We just don’t care,” Jack says. “Now get dressed.”

* * *

“Is it just me or are these things usually less well turned out,” Snow asks. The crowd is a crush of people on all sides, and she tightens her grip on Gwen’s hand. They’ve already been separated from Mr. White; if she loses Gwen as well, they’re liable to not find each other again until the end of the night.

“It’s not just you.” Gwen pops up onto her toes, peering this way and that, before rocking back onto her heels. “The entire town must have turned out for the occasion.” 

“What occasion?” Snow tries to see around the sea of bodies around her. Maybe she’s forgotten some obscure holiday? And if so, maybe there’s some stealth decorations that could help clue her in. “Is it a church holiday? You know how horrible I am at remembering those.”

“The Seven are here,” Pearl Finn says, appearing out of nowhere at Snow’s elbow. Snow startles violently, near tripping over her own feet and squeezing so hard on Gwen’s hand that she hisses and slaps Snow’s wrist to get her to stop.

“Sorry,” Snow tells her, then turns to Pearl and asks, “Sorry?”

“The Seven,” Pearl says. She loosely links her elbow with Snow’s and drags the chain of them through the crowd toward the punch table. “Everyone is here to try to get a glimpse of them.”

“I will never understand what fascinates some people,” Snow says to Gwen on an undertone, but Pearl must hear her, because she laughs.

“You never have,” she says in a tone that would be derisive coming from anyone else, but is fondly teasing from her. Pearl’s teeth are very white and very sharp against the silvery metallic sheen of her skin, but her fingers are gentle when she touches one to one of the rosebuds woven into Snow’s hair. “This is lovely on you.”

“Thank you,” Snow says, smiling back. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Well, it’s the Seven,” Pearl says with a shrug, as if that explains everything.

Snow supposes it’ll have to do as an explanation. Personally, she’s fairly certain the Seven are actually just your usual bunch of rowdy young gentlemen at loose ends between finishing their educations and buying army commissions who are exceptionally good at controlling their own press, but who is she to deny other people their entertainment with her own doubts.

“They’re certainly a novelty,” Gwen says absently. She’s frowning at something over Snow’s shoulder. Snow gives her fingers a little squeeze and Gwen blinks and turns back to Pearl with a slightly absentminded smile of her own. “You look wonderful, Pearl. I don’t think we’ve seen you out of the water since the spring thaw.”

“I do love the sea during the summer,” Pearl says with a sigh. She runs a hand over her smooth scalp and frowns. “And I have to confess, it feels odd not having scales in this heat.”

“Well, I’m sure everyone thanks you for not dripping puddles everywhere so that you could stay wet enough to keep them,” Snow tells her. 

There’d been a garden party a few years ago that Snow and Pearl had both attended during what had been a somewhat awkward period for Pearl. Her features are razor edged, angular as cut glass, and while she makes for a striking figure now, at the time she'd not yet fully grown into her looks. Plus, as a bonus, she'd been having a terrible time with spots popping up on her chin. Her solution had been to keep a bucket of saltwater handy, so that she could douse herself every time she started to dry out and keep her more human form from taking over from the fish. The hostess had handled it with good enough humor, right up until poor Mrs. Swan had slipped, somersaulted down the garden steps, and horribly twisted her ankle.

Gwen’s distracted again, frown more pronounced this time, and Snow bumps their shoulders together and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Gwen shakes her head and points across the room. “It’s nothing major. It just looks like father’s cornered someone.”

“Oof.” Pearl winces, slumping dramatically against the punch table. “You should go save the poor soul.”

“Hey,” Snow says, sharply protective, but Pearl waves away her anger with an elegant hand.

“You know I think the world of your father, Snow, but the man could talk the barnacles off a rock,” Pearl says, completely unrepentant.

Snow keeps her eyes narrowed in warning for a moment longer, then weighs the energy it would take to sustain her annoyance against the truth of Pearl’s statement and exhales ruefully. 

“She’s right,” Snow concedes. “We should go help.”

“This way,” Gwen says, already pushing her way back into the crowd.

Snow reluctantly allows herself to be towed along. As much as she protests coming to these things for Gwen’s sake, the truth of it is that she herself isn’t a huge fan of the crowds at these events. They’re too loud and the heavy, humid heat of the hall makes it hard to breathe. She’d much rather spend a quiet evening in, but Gwen’d had a point earlier. There _are_ appearances that they need to uphold, and unfortunately one of them involves showing up with a happy face and making nice. Polite country politics isn’t Snow’s favorite game to play, but damned if she isn’t going to do her best when thrust into the fray.

So she scrounges up her special, secret weapon smile. It’s one of the few physical traits she’d inherited from her mother, a pure beam of warmth that manages to stun most of those she turns it on, if only for a few seconds, and had once even made sour old Mr. Rumple pat her head and call her a ‘dear child’ after he’d caught her stealing apples from his orchard when she’d been ten. 

Snow has it firmly in place when they sidle up beside her father, ready to distract him away from the unfamiliar young man that he’s been monopolizing, when she suddenly falters. 

She feels more than she sees Gwen freeze. It’s a stillness in the air between them, the absence of movement that shivers with tension like a cord strung too tight.

Snow turns to her on instinct, ready for the worst, but not for the reality. Gwen’s standing nearly unnaturally still, eyes wide and mouth just barely parted, with a flush rising up the back of her neck to stain her cheeks. She looks completely moonstruck.

Snow looks from her to the young man with her father. He’s tall and broad, handsome in an amiable sort of way. His hands hover in midair, their movement casualty along with whatever sentence has died on his lips, and his eyes are locked with Gwen’s. Snow thinks the room could fall down around them this very moment and he wouldn’t notice.

Snow looks between the two of them and thinks, _Oh_.

“Ah,” Mr. White says as he claps the other man on the shoulder and turns to them, jovially oblivious to the sudden weight in the air. “Mr. Pendragon, allow me the pleasure of introducing my daughters, Snow and Guinevere. Girls, this is Mr. Arthur Pendragon, one of the young men leasing Netherfield.”

Pendragon steps out from under Mr. White’s hand and bows, head tipping up against proper manners to keep Gwen in view. He grins as he straightens, boyish and borderline rakish, and says, “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

“Surely it can be at least partially ours,” Snow says, discretely nudging Gwen to unstick her. 

Gwen startles back to herself and she bumps her elbow against Snow’s in equal parts reprimand and thanks before fixing her face into her sweetest smile. “Charmed to meet you.”

Snow bites down hard on the hysterical giggle rising in her throat and settles in to watch the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, I expected to get a lot more done in this chapter than I actually did, but it TURNS OUT that if you want more things to happen, then you have to write more words! Who knew, right? I'm transferring jobs and moving in a week, though, so I'm low on time and wrote most of this on my lunch breaks. With as busy as I've been, I'm mostly counting myself lucky to have gotten anything together in time to post this week. :)
> 
> Pearl Finn is the half fish girl from the end credits of the movie, who I decided to apply Daryl Hannah's Splash logic to in regards to her transformations, although she looks more...human adjacent than actually human when dry.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a charming town,” Hans says. 
> 
> Merlin makes a half hearted noise of agreement and then swallows a yelp when Hans’ heel smashes down on top of his toes.

“We obviously don’t have the sort of Season you’d be able to enjoy in London, but we do manage to keep ourselves amused,” General Organa says as she surveys the ebb and flow of the ballroom with a long, sweeping look.

“It’s a charming town,” Hans says. Merlin makes a half hearted noise of agreement and then swallows a yelp when Hans’ heel smashes down on top of his toes. He tries to transition his grimace into a polite smile, but it must not fully pass muster based on how General Organa’s lips twitch with the slightest hint of amusement.

A very astute woman, Merlin notes. He doubts she misses much of anything.

“Have you lived here long,” he asks, resisting the urge to pull a face at Hans when the General looks away to accept a drink from her husband.

“Just since we returned from India,” Mr. Organa says. Most of his focus is on his wife, who seems content to be the sun pulling him into her orbit.

“We own the Skywalker estate on the edge of town,” General Organa picks up smoothly. “My brother left me the property when he joined his cloister, and maintaining the farmland keeps us busy.”

“Idle hands,” Mr. Organa agrees with a smirk that borders on the smarmy side of things.

“I’m familiar with the trouble they can cause,” Hans says, darting a look at Merlin.

“I don’t think I deserve that condemnation half so much as the triplets do,” Merlin shoots back. There’s a momentary parting in the crowd. Merlin catches sight of Arthur on the other side of the room and he feels his stomach drop at the awestruck look on his face. 

“But they’re three people, and you’re only yourself,” Hans points out. “If you manage to generate half of the amount of mischief on your own as a trio does together, then you’re still creating more per person and could be argued to be the bigger problem.”

“I’ll give you a bigger problem,” Merlin gripes, but he nods toward Arthur as he says it.

Hans follows his gaze and the corners of his mouth go tight. “Ah.”

General Organa narrows shrewd eyes at them and even Mr. Organa’s foppish façade sharpens.

“Something the matter, gentlemen,” she asks.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hans tells her.

“Just our friend,” Merlin confirms. “He doesn’t have the best track record with romantic entanglements.”

“Pot, kettle,” Hans coughs into the back of his hand. Mr. Organa grins at Hans while General Organa frowns and asks in a hushed voice, “Scandal?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Merlin assures her. It’s a struggle, but he fights down the urge to slap Hans across the back of the head and musters up his most charming smile instead. “Just a tendency to get a little too attached, a little too quickly, and to the wrong sort.”

“The wrong sort,” General Organa repeats slowly, eyes drifting back toward Arthur. She taps a finger against the side of her glass once, twice, a third time; it’s a short, precise motion, the sound of it muffled by the silk of her glove, and she nods shortly to herself after the third tap, as if reaching some internal decision. 

“Well,” she says, “Your friend is speaking with Misses White and Hood, so if it was the quality of the women’s character that was previously lacking, then you’ve nothing to worry about there with either of the two of them.”

Merlin’s head snaps back around toward her. He has no idea why he’s surprised she has information, but all information is good in this instance. “You’re familiar with them.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “It’s a small town; everyone knows everyone here. And even if that weren’t the case, _everyone_ would still know the Whites because of both their status and the Incident two years ago.”

“Incident?” Merlin’s fingertips itch with the desire for a pencil to take notes and he has to bite back hard on the impulse to push the General to tell her story at a sprint rather than the leisurely stroll she seems to have settled upon. “You’ve given the impression they were uninvolved with any scandal.”

He would bet the entire monetary value of his newly refitted wardrobe that both she and her husband are laughing at him right now. He’d bet the same on Hans, but no one would take that bet; his gleeful expression as he watches their exchange like a tennis match is an instant give away to what the outcome would be.

Patience is a virtue, he reminds himself, but it’s never been one that he’s particularly excelled at.

“There was a witch,” Mr. Organa says blithely, exchanging his full punch glass with his wife’s as she finishes hers off. “Things mostly worked out fine, and neither of the girls were at fault.”

“The so-called Lady Regina George,” General Organa says with palpable distaste. “She arrived during the height of summer with three small children and Miss Hood in tow, and by the fall she’d secured a proposal from Mr. White.”

“That seems awfully fast,” Hans interjects. 

“Miss White thought so as well,” Mr. Organa says. He gestures toward the shorter of the two women. “She went digging for more information on Lady George and ended up cursed for her trouble.”

“It temporarily alters her appearance,” General Organa tells them at Hans’ alarmed look. She watches Miss White warmly and her voice is fond when she says, “Sometimes she looks as she does now, and other times she looks quite different. There was some talk of a cure for a time, but she’s said the solution that was suggested caused her more distress than the curse itself, so she’s opted to forgo treatment and just make do.”

Miss White is a plain, plump young woman of about twenty. Judging from the plain, plump middle aged man standing beside her, the witch based her curse off of her father. They’re both completely unremarkable, though the amused smile she’s mostly hiding behind her dance card very nearly lends her face a glow. Merlin wonders what her real form looks like, and hopes for her sake that she had a pretty mother to take after.

But that’s a thought to think on another day when Arthur isn’t rapturously staring at Miss Hood as if she was placed on this earth solely to be the object of his devotion, while Miss Hood looks back at him with what seems to be the polite smile of a woman who thinks he has the appearance of a rather nice gentleman whom she doesn’t actually know yet.

“But Miss Hood arrived with the witch,” Merlin asks. Across the room, Arthur offers his arm to Miss Hood, who exchanges a glance with Miss White before slowly taking it.

“Her and the kids,” Mr. Organa says. “Lady George used them to garner sympathy, claiming they were poor relations. Best anyone can tell, she picked the lot of them up off the street, then dumped them here when she was found out.”

“The Whites have always been a very charitable family, and Miss White grew attached to them during her father’s engagement,” General Organa explains, as if all of this is a normal thing to do. “So when George was run out of town, the Whites volunteered to take the four of them in. Mr. and Miss White both claim them as family, with all that entails.”

Merlin wants to ask what ‘with all that entails’ actually, you know, _entails_ , and judging from how Hans’ eyebrows are dancing, he has similar questions, but Arthur is nearly upon them with Miss Hood on his arm and Miss White following in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less than half the length of the chapter I'd wanted to post, but moving, starting at my new job, finalizing details for the sale of my house, and house hunting all at the same time has been KILLER on my writing schedule, and it's been a month since I last posted, so I really wanted to at least get SOMETHING up. I'm sorry it took so long and fingers crossed the next chapter will be a LOT less of a wait and extra long to make up for this skimpy one. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Special Guest Stars: General Leia Organa and Han Organa, nee Solo! Because you can't namedrop Princess Leia in a fandom I'm writing for and NOT expect my nerdy ass to pounce on it. Back story for Leia in this fic is that she impersonated a man to join the military, was WILDLY success and rapidly rose through the ranks, casually decided to reveal that she was a woman and marry Han, and the British government was just like 'we...guess??? you can do that????' because she was honestly too good to get rid of.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [coffeebuddha](https://coffeebuddha.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr as well if you want to see me screaming about this fic in real time. 
> 
> And there's fanart! Check out p0cketw0tch's amazing fanart of regency!Snow [over here](https://p0cketw0tch.tumblr.com/post/627217966254129152/coffeebuddha-p0cketw0tch-replied-to-your-post)!


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